Lily's Story
by hipotamus
Summary: In the big scheme of things we are living to die. But right here, right now, we’re all dying to live. We are in a war between  those who believe in love, and those who don’t. And we will never stop fighting. Because we have something to fight for. LJ
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: In the big scheme of things we are living to die. But right here, right now, we're all dying to live. We are in a war between those who believe in love, and those who don't. I'm on the side of those who will never stop fighting, because we actually have something to fight for – those we love.

**AN:** Hello! New LJ story...i know i know, should be writing my other stories, but this one really will be a very short one. Basically, it's the story of Lily and James, through Lily's eyes.

**Disclaimer:** Fine, I'll put them back when I'm done.

For Hannah. Just because.

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This is a love story. Pure and simple. It's taken a while to write. I've always meant to write it, I've just never really got round to it. But now's the perfect time I suppose. Nine months of lying around doing absolutely nothing, and James is determined that I'm to do exactly that. Perhaps it's not one of the best love stories of all time. Perhaps it's insignificant in the big scheme of things. But I think if all we concentrated on was the big scheme of things than life itself would be pretty boring and insignificant. I mean, what is the big scheme of things? Living only to produce more life? Is that what I'm doing now? Carrying another insignificant life inside of me? 

You see what I mean? In the big scheme of things we are living to die. But right here, right now, we're all dying to live.

And where does love come into all of this? Perhaps we're all living for love. Dying for love. Love is the answer to all the unthinkable questions. We're all here to find love. And I know the little one I'm carrying will be the love of my life. And he will grow up being loved wholly, unconditionally and eternally my his father and me, and will pass that love onto his own children.

But then there are those who don't love. Who ignore it. I suppose that is where this love story becomes difficult. We are in a war. The war between those who believe in love, and those who don't. And I'm on the side of those who will never stop fighting until we find peace, because we actually have something to fight for – those we love.

Which makes all the difference I suppose.

Which is why I'm confident we'll win.

Oh, I'm not saying that I'll survive, or James will survive just because we love each other enough. No. I'm not deluded enough to think that. I know that love can't fight for us and make us victorious. It just means that, in the end, after a thousand deaths and tragedies, we will win, because we have a reason to keep fighting and never stop.

My name's Lily Potter. And this is my story.

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I don't really know when this story starts. I suppose that's the same with most tales really. Finding an appropriate beginning. Our lives are so filled with different events and people and dreams that the storylines all seem to merge into each other so we can't distinguish beginnings from middles from ends.

I suppose I could open with the first four years of my life at Hogwarts, made miserable by the spoilt brat that was James Potter, picking on me every chance he got and deciding his nemesis was my then best friend. But that's not really the way I want to start the love story of my life – with bitter memories and the cruel games of children. Perhaps I should start with when I found out I was a witch. The same time my sister stopped talking to me, and my home life changed forever.

No. Perhaps not. Again, it doesn't set quite the right mood I was hoping for.

So instead I will start this story on the day of our first kiss. The day when I realised the arrogant bullying toerag was the man whom I'd spend the rest of my life with, however long that may be.

I woke up very early that morning, I remember. Mist blanketed the grounds, a harbinger of the oncoming rainstorm. I awoke suddenly, and stared up at the deep red canopy, a smile on my face. Quietly, I swung my legs out of bed, attempting to hold on to the peace of sleep for as long as I could. My dream had been a good one. I couldn't remember what it had entailed, but I'd woken up smiling. I'd woken up with hope.

Gently pushing open the window, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the cold, damp air flow inside. I felt calm, happy, and at peace with the world, the silly smile still plastered to my face. I must have been dreaming of a boy – which boy I couldn't say. Maybe no boy in particular, simply a faceless being. Someone who loved me. I'd never been loved before. Neither had I loved. True, a few boys had asked me out, but each had, in turn, been politely rejected. It wasn't that I didn't want a boyfriend; I just wanted my first one to be really special, and he (whoever he was) hadn't asked me out yet.

Alright, I lied earlier when I said that the few boys who had asked me out had all been politely refused. One of them had not been politely refused. He had been refused in the rudest manner I could accomplish. But still. He'd deserved it, hadn't he? He was always so mean to everyone. He'd deserved to be rejected, because he was arrogant, cruel, pretentious…I could have gone on and on. But that year I knew it'd be different. _He'd_ be different. It was our final year and everyone had grown up so much over the summer. I thought maybe that year we would be civil to each other. Maybe even friends. Maybe I knew…maybe then, when my thoughts continuously flitted around him, maybe I knew I had feelings for him.

Shivering, I left my post by the window, and hurriedly dressed, pausing only to drag a comb through my thick red hair and check my reflection in the ancient mirror, before leaving the dormitory where my classmates slumbered on.

Arriving in the Great Hall, I found it almost empty, only a few sleepy students slumped over coffee and scrambled eggs on such a wet Saturday morning. My eyes raked over the robe clad bodies until I found familiar faces. Only a few Gryffindors were up, mainly first years, still excited at the prospect of a fully cooked breakfast and ready to set out and explore the castle on their first weekend of the school year. A couple of sleepy yet cheerful looking fourth year girls sat clumped together, gossiping over pumpkin juice, and, at the far end of the table, a lone figure sat hunched over a Daily Prophet, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. My stomach squirmed.

I think I've already mentioned how much we'd all changed over the past however many months. Change is a funny thing though. We don't like it. Sometimes we even fear it, but it will come. Inevitably, it will happen. People will change, places will change…life will change. And we either adapt and move on, or we get left behind. I'd expected him to change, I honestly had. I'd expected him to be nicer, more mature. But the bit where he loved me? No, I hadn't expected that to change. I suppose the truth is, it hurts to grow, and anyone who tells you different is lying. When you grow, you grow apart, and things that were the world of importance become insignificant. But here's the truth: sometimes, the more things change, the more they stay the same. And that was what we all wanted: for things to stay the same. Well, I did anyway. So for things to stay the same, we needed to change. So sometimes change is good. Sometimes it's everything. But it wasn't what I was expecting.

I knew I was going to go over and sit with him. I'd never have done it before, but I was different now, and I couldn't imagine not going over to him. He looked almost comical sitting there all by himself, his eyes racing over the Prophet, his toast dangling forgotten from parted lips. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, and his thin face was topped with a mass of black locks, sticking up in all directions as if he'd just stuck a metal rod into a power socket. As I sat down, he looked up and the toast fell from his slack lips into his cereal bowl, splashing milk down the front of his robes. He swore and attempted to wipe it up with the newspaper, but in doing so, caught his goblet of pumpkin juice and knocked that down the front of him as well.

His face was as red as my hair by this point, and I couldn't stop the small smile from creeping onto my face as I watched him.

"Alright Evans?" he muttered as finally, it seemed, he remembered he was capable of magic and pulled his wand out.

"I'm fine," I replied simply, watching as he cleared away the mess with one sweep of his wand. "Had a pretty good summer. We went to Wales actually, which was good fun, but a bit wet. It rained the whole -"

"Did you want something?" he cut me off mid rant, eyebrow raised.

I felt as though he had slapped me, and floundered for words. "What do you -"

"Do you need something? Can I help you in some way?" He was looking at me coldly, expectantly, almost impatiently.

Waves of shock washed over me as I realised what was happening. Here I was, attempting to make conversation, attempting to actually be civil to him, and he was coldly rejecting me. Just as I had done to him so many times in the past; had cut him off before he'd even had a chance to begin; had humiliated him in front of everyone.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"No," I murmured. "No I don't need anything."

"Right." He stood, grabbed another piece of toast, and stalked out of the Great Hall, leaving me sitting alone, my face hot, my eyes filling with tears. I realised then that only one thing in life is certain, besides death and Ministry mishaps. No matter how hard we try, no matter how much we regret it, we are going to make mistakes. We are going to hurt people. And in return, we are going to be hurt. I wish I could say I hadn't meant to hurt him, but if I'm to be truthful, then yes, I did mean to. Asking me out, every single day – it had humiliated me. And so I rejected him, humiliated him, hurt him.

They say the only way to recover is to forgive and forget. It's good advice, I suppose, but not very practical. This is the real world, and things aren't as simple as that. When someone hurts us, we want to hurt them back. Without forgiveness, nothing is ever settled. Hurts don't heal. And all we can hope for is to forget.

But that wasn't enough, not for me.

I needed his exoneration. I needed his affection. I needed _him_.

So I went after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Short chapter, sorry. Hope you all enjoy!

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It's raining outside. Huge, fat drops of water keep hitting the window, trickling down the glass, and splashing onto the wet ground. It's been raining solidly for the past week. Just when you think it's going to clear up a bit, a roll of thunder will sound off in the distance and the sky darkens yet again. James just brought me in a cup of hot chocolate, stopping briefly to lean down and kiss my now swollen tummy.

He's so happy, striding around the house, singing Christmas carols at the top of his voice. He wants to start auror training next year, but he's so busy with the Order as it is, I don't know where he'll find time. I don't want him to become an auror anyway, it's too dangerous. He won't listen to me though, and he gets restless when he's not doing anything. We decorated the house for Christmas yesterday – our first one together. We did it in the traditional muggle way, and James grumbled the whole time, but I think he secretly enjoyed it. He even tied a piece of tinsel around the cat's collar, and she's been hiding under the settee ever since.

I suppose what I've really been doing is putting off writing this story. Not that I don't want to write it, it's just not easy…back then there were so many different emotions getting in the way of everything. Pride, mainly. And not just James', either. Merlin, to be honest, it was probably mainly me, not that I ever would have admitted that at the time.

I followed James out of the Great Hall on that miserable September morning, shoving my hands into my pockets in an attempt to keep them warm. I saw his messy head disappear out the oak front doors and hurried after him, trying to arrange my thoughts as I went. What was I supposed to say to him, anyway? He clearly had a problem with me, and I was too blind to see what it was.

The rain started to fall as I left the castle, cold, heavy drops, trickling down my neck and making me shiver. I called out to him, but he didn't turn around or make any sign that he had heard me, just continued to walk down the sloping lawns, headed for the lake.

"Wait!" I yelled after him, slipping on the grassy slope. "For Merlin's sake, Potter, I only want to talk to you."

Eventually he slowed and stopped, then turned to face me, his face bare of emotion. "Not now, Lily," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the rising rain.

"What the hell is your problem?" I said, my voice louder than I had anticipated.

"My problem?" he asked, taking a step towards me, his eyebrows raised. "You really want to know what my problem is Lily Evans?"

I nodded, finding I could not speak under his scrutinising glare.

"You, Lily," he replied in a softer tone, looking over my shoulder, back up towards the castle. "You're my problem. All I want to do is forget you, but how do I do that?"

I mouthed wordlessly, attempting to come up with a coherent response, but found I couldn't say anything. The rain came down harder.

With a sigh, James ran a hand through his wet hair, taming it for a second before it sprang up again. "You think you like me, Lily, but trust me, you don't. You think I've changed and now we can be the best of friends, but it's not that easy."

I hesitated before saying, "Well, let's _make_ it easy. There's no reason we can't be friends." I took a step closer to him, my voice now raised over the noise of the downpour.

"I _can't_ be your friend, Lily," he practically yelled back, sinking his hands deep into his robes pockets and hunching his shoulders against the icy rain. "I can't be just your friend, because every time I look at you and realise that I can never have you, I feel like my insides are being ripped up. I'm never going to be okay with 'just friends'."

It takes a lot of guts to admit your feelings like that. I'd never really done it before. My entire life, I've walked around, over, under, even detouring past Canada, when it came to my feelings. Even James had never been that straightforward with me before. You see, the thing is, I think at some point in our life, we pick out a few people who we want to be close with. Just a couple of mates, and everyone else becomes a part of the scenery. So I'd picked my friends and kept my distance from the rest. And I didn't pick James. I don't know, in all honesty, I think at the end of the day, all we want is to be close to somebody, it doesn't really matter who, so this thing that we do, where we keep our distance and pretend not to care is just a load of bull anyway.

I remember wiping the water out of my eyes and pushing back my sopping wet fringe. A realisation seemed to strike me at the moment, as James searched my eyes frantically with his own, his mouth parted ever so slightly. I realised that if it came down to an ultimatum: all or nothing, I wanted all.

"I can't not have you in my life," I muttered so quietly I doubted he'd even hear me. But he heard alright. The corner of his mouth twitched as he wiped rain off of his glasses.

"If you'd told me seven years ago that to get you, all I had to do was stop chasing, it would have saved us both a lot of embarrassment."

"I didn't want you back then."

"So what's changed?"

I shook my head, not able to answer. What had changed? He was no longer seeking me out, but there had to be more to it than that. And then I realised: I hadn't picked James, but _he'd_ chosen _me_. He stayed close, and no matter how much I hurt him, he was still there at the end of the day, and the ones that are still there, the ones that stay by your side through thick and thin…they're the ones worth keeping. And okay, when it came to James, sometimes close had been too close, but sometimes, that invasion of space was exactly what I needed.

"Why, Lily?" he asked, his voice nothing more than a deep rumble. Taking a step closer, he lifted my chin with a finger and pushed my wet hair off of my face.

"I don't know why," I replied. "It just happened."

James nodded solemnly, moving his hand from my chin to cup my cheek. "Is it real?"

If I'm to be truthful, I did consider the question. My heart and my head were saying two very different things. My head was explaining that I had no reason to love James, but my heart was stubbornly professing that it did, anyway. Maybe I didn't have to understand _why_ I loved him, just the fact that I did was enough. In reply, I placed a hand on the back of his dripping neck, and drew him towards me as I leaned closer, tilting my head to the side and pressing my lips against his.

I still remember the feeling of his soft skin pressing ever so gently against mine, opening my mouth to allow his entrance, running my fingers up into his hair as he pulled me up against him. But more than anything I remember the small explosion in my chest as I realised that I never wanted to leave his side, that this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

Maybe it's not the most romantic kiss of all time, with water dripping down our faces, our soaking robes clinging to a our goose bump decorated skin, ankle deep in mud, but I couldn't have hoped for better. Because it was with James after all, and even now, two and a bit years later, I still can't get enough of him. Even with all his funny little ways. I can hear him singing in the kitchen. He's making a trifle for Christmas, and has decided to deviate from the traditional sponge cake and raspberry jelly, and at the moment is pouring thick custard on top of ginger cake soaked in pineapple jelly. I just don't have the heart to tell him that people tend to stick with traditions for a reason.

But who am I to judge? Change is good, right?

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Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!! I'll try and get another chapter up by the weekend. xx 


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Happy New Year! Thank you to all my lovely lovely reviewers. This was going to be a Christmas present, but, typically, I got distracted, and procrastinated, and edited, and deleted, and so here we are, a week later. Hope you enjoy!

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I've always hated February. It's cold and wet, and there's nothing to look forward to. Christmas and New Year's are over, and you haven't got an excuse to eat massive amounts of chocolate until Easter, which is another two months away. It's okay though, because I've spent a good deal of my time keeping warm, curled up in front of the crackling fire with the world's longest book, which may not be very interesting, but at least keeps me occupied in the long evenings. James has been busy most nights now, working with the Order. Sometimes Remus or Sirius comes over and has dinner with me, but Dumbledore's been keeping them busy too, lately, so instead I've been plodding through the 700 page volume of _Charms Through the Ages_, which is as boring as it sounds.

I'm due in six months, and I'm determined to get this thing finished by the time the baby arrives. I've almost decided on the name Jonathan, but James isn't too impressed with it, and he still thinks we're going to have a girl. I know for a fact that we're not, which is why I've allowed him the name Ruth. The only way I would name my baby Ruth, was if I was giving birth to an eighty year old woman, but James is happy thinking that he will get his way.

He was actually home last night which made a nice surprise. I told him I was scared all the time now. He said it was okay to be scared, and when I stopped being afraid, that was when we had a problem. I'm scared because I have so much to lose. And just a few years ago, I knew this would happen. I knew my life would get just that little bit harder if I let myself love another. But I did it anyway.

I didn't see James until the Monday after we kissed because he spent the entire weekend at Quidditch practice. Well, that was partly the reason, anyway. I spent an awful lot of time hiding in the library. It wasn't that I regretted kissing him, I just needed some time to figure out what it all meant. He found me on Sunday evening though, as I was perusing the dustiest books the library offered and trying my hardest not to sneeze.

"You're avoiding me."

I jumped about a foot, and spun around to see him leaning casually against a book shelf, his Quidditch robes damp and mud splattered.

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are." He was actually smiling at me, and had the nerve to run his hand through his thick dark hair.

"No," I repeated through clenched teeth. "I merely happened to be in a different place to you the past two days. And since you didn't venture far from the Quidditch pitch, that's hardly surprising. I'm not like your last thousand girlfriends James, who spent the majority of their time watching you whiz around on a broomstick."

He grinned and pushed himself upright, before taking a lazy step towards me. "So you admit you're my girlfriend then?"

I hesitated, and ran my tongue across my lips. "I didn't say that…"

He seemed to wilt slightly, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "No, Lily -"

"I just need time, James."

"What, six years wasn't long enough?" He looked bewildered and hurt. Like he was a little boy and I had just stabbed his favourite teddy bear. "No, Lily. No, I walked away from this and _you_ came after _me_. You can't run now."

"I'm not running," I said desperately, and actually reached out and grabbed his arm. I think it was that instinctive movement that told me I really _didn't_ want to lose him. "I'm in this, I am, I've just…I've never done this before." I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the traitorous tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm going to make mistakes, and I'm going to mess up. I'm always going to be a few steps behind you, and I need to know that you'll wait for me."

He took another step towards me then and cupped my cheek with his big warm hand. Stooping a little so his eyes were level with mine, he said, "No, Lily. I'll always be beside you, holding your hand."

I must have looked startled at that point, or something, because he closed his eyes wearily. "What?"

"You're always going to do that, aren't you?" he asked with a sigh.

"Do what?"

"I tell you that I love you, and want to spend the rest of my life with you, and you look as though you're fighting as hard as you can not to run in the opposite direction."

I swallowed again and grabbed at his hands, almost pleading. "James, I want to do this, I do, but I've never done anything like this before, and I just don't know if I'm ready, or _when_ I will be, or how long it will take, and I want to be ready, I really do, because I really do want to and I _want_ to love you, but it's just not that -"

His lips on mine cut off the ranting, and before I knew it, he'd pressed me up against the dusty shelves, his hands buried deep in my hair, his warm body pressed tightly against mine. When we finally broke apart, he was panting slightly and still had me pinned against the bookcase. "Stop thinking about it so much, Lily. Just go with it."

I bit my lip, and decided to take his advice. "Okay," I murmured, my eyes flitting between his eyes and lips. "Okay, but you're going to have to help me."

He merely nodded before gently pressing his lips to mine once again.

And then Madam Pince came around the corner and shrieked like a banshee, which ruined the moment a bit, but still, it was pretty perfect until James almost swallowed my tongue. That was the first day I became James' girlfriend, and consequently the most hated and envied girl in the entire school.

Being in love's a funny thing. I imagined what it would be like so many times, but none of that actually compares with the real thing. I don't know, it's like, even when I'm with him, I miss him. Okay, maybe it sounds stupid, but it's true. And what happens if he dies? What happens if he goes out to work for the Order and never comes home? I don't even want to think about it, but what scares me even more is that I need to think about it, because it's actually a possibility. Anything could happen.

So many people are dying – people I know, care for, love. I hate the pain. I always have, ever since my dog died when I was six years old, and I vowed never to love anything again because it just hurt too much when that thing is taken away.

Pain is one of those certains in life though. It'll always be there, and even when everything is going right, it will be waiting just around the corner, ready to destroy everything with just a touch. But I think you just have to ride it out…hope it goes away on its own. In the end there are no solutions, no easy escapes. You've just got to take a deep breath and wait for the pain to subside. And, God, it sucks, but it does go away eventually. Pain can be managed.

But sometimes, the pain gets you where you least expect it. You just have to fight through, because the truth is, you can't outrun it and life will always be making more. So maybe I _am_ scared – scared of losing James, or another friend, or relative. I fear them being gone, but I also fear the pain, and I think that's okay. Or I think it will be. There's nothing I can do about it, anyway, there's no way I can stop what will inevitably happen. You can't stop death. We can try all we want, but it gets you in the end.

So instead of thinking about that, I'll think about the time in the library, and the time under the tree, and the common room, and the empty Transfiguration classroom, and the Room of Requirements, and the girl's bathroom on the fourth floor, and the Astronomy tower…because it really does help.

Love. It's stronger than pain, and fear, and grief, and all those other things. It's the strongest feeling of all. And it may not stop the others, but it makes them all just that little bit easier to deal with.

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Thanks so much for reading! Now go out and celebrate and eat and drink lots! I, however, am stuck at home with grandparents, so you all need to party for me...and leave a review. xxx 


	4. Chapter 4

**AN**: Sorry it took a while to update. Wrote this a while ago and forgot to put it up. Life's been a bit...weird, lately. So here it is.

**Disclaimer**: It all belongs to people infinitley more creative than I.

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More often than not, life doesn't go according to plan. It just happens, and you've got to follow it. I didn't plan on being a witch. I didn't plan on going to Hogwarts, or becoming Head Girl, or fighting in a war, or getting married, or having a child before my 21st birthday. But it's all happening, and I can't stop it.

Dumbledore visited late last night, dripping from a typical April thunderstorm. He looked graver than usual, and I knew something was wrong. I gripped James' hand tightly before heading into the kitchen and busying myself with making a pot of tea. I could hear their voices rumbling incomprehensively in the adjoining room. I assumed they were talking about the numerous deaths that had been occurring with more frequency over the past few weeks. The Deatheaters have been killing with more accuracy and turning up unexpectedly at secret locations. It's clear to all of us what is going on – there's a traitor amongst us.

We're losing this war. Maybe I shouldn't say that, because you only lose when you give up hope, but it's true. Now we're turning on each other, suspicion in every look, accusation in every sentence.

Thinking that perhaps Dumbledore had discovered the double agent, I hurriedly prepared a tray and returned to the warm living room.

"Professor," I said, handing Dumbledore a cup. He accepted it with a gracious smile, which didn't quite reach his uncharacteristically sombre eyes. "Any more information on the Somerby murders?"

"Unfortunately not, my dear," he replied, blowing gently on his steaming tea. "However, as I was just saying to James, another situation has arisen. Please sit down."

I sat heavily besides James, and he quickly took my hand as we shared a nervous look before turning back to Dumbledore. Not another death, I thought. Please, not another death.

With a sigh, Dumbledore placed his cup on the coffee table, and pressed his fingers together gently. "You two must go into hiding."

"What? Why?"

"Something terrible occurred this evening." He cleared his throat, as if finding the words was difficult. "A prophecy has been made, about a boy who will defeat Lord Voldemort. A boy who will be born in July, to parents who have thrice defied the Dark Lord."

Instinctively, James laid a hand on my stomach. "You believe it to be our child, Dumbledore?"

"Not necessarily, but it is a possibility."

"But it's just a prophecy, Dumbledore," I pleaded. "What does it matter? You know better than I, that Divination is unreliable, at best."

"And besides," James said roughly, "If our son does defeat Voldemort, than surely that would be a good thing," he faltered. "Wouldn't it?"

Dumbledore looked for a second as if he was about to say something, but decided against it and merely sighed yet again. "None of this would even be worth discussing, if one of Voldemort's servants had not overheard us. I know for a fact that the Deatheater did not hear the prophecy in it's entirety, but he heard enough to interest Voldemort. He could be on his way right now. Which is why you must go into hiding."

"Hide?" James repeated. "But, Professor, what good will hiding do? Are we not fighting anymore? I can name no more than a handful of people left in the Order who have not hidden themselves or fled the country. Is this it?" he demanded angrily. "Is this your big plan? We simply stay hidden in our houses, burrowed away like timid animals until he finds and kills us all?"

I rested a hand gently on his arm, but he brushed me off, and got to his feet. Anger masked his face, but I could see the worry and fear underneath it. He was as scared as I was, for our lives, and the life of our child.

"James, see reason," Dumbledore said quietly. "You are one of Voledmort's most wanted as it is. You are responsible for more Deatheater arrests than half of the Ministry's aurors, and yet you are only just twenty. Lord Voldemort would give any excuse to kill you. Protect your son." He stood, and replaced his tall pointed hat. "I suggest the Fidelius charm. I could be your Secret Keeper -"

"No," interrupted James. "Sirius…"

"I strongly urge you to take my protection, James," Dumbledore said quietly.

James prickled. "If you are suggesting Sirius is a traitor, Dumbledore, than you are mistaken. I would trust him with my life. I would trust him with _your_ life."

Dumbledore looked to me, but I shook my head. "Thank you for your offer, Professor, but Sirius would die rather than betray us."

He spread his hands in defeat, and led the way to the front door. Cupping my face with a wizened, old hand, he said, "Take care of yourself, Lily."

"I will, Professor."

"And, James, I have only your best interests at heart. We have not given up hope, and we will not stop fighting. Do not let a silly quarrel come between us."

"No, Professor," James murmured, gripping the old man's hand, before opening the door to the chilly night. "I will place enchantments around the house tonight, and get Sirius to perform the fidelius charm tomorrow."

Dumbledore bowed, and with a swish of his cloak, disappeared into the night.

"You think what we're doing is weak?" I asked quietly, helping James clear up the teacups.

He didn't meet my eyes, but his lips tightened. "I could still fight, Lils," he whispered. "We'll never win this war if we don't fight." He looked up. "We _can_ win, I know we can." His voice was pleading, as if he didn't really believe it himself, but needed me to tell him he was speaking the truth.

"I'm not going to raise this child alone, James. I can't." Predictably, my eyes filled with tears. "I need you. Please."

"I don't hide," he whispered, sinking in to a kitchen chair, and burying his face in his hands.

"Then you'll be killed," I yelled, grabbing onto his shirt. "He wants us dead, James. There's _nothing_ we can do anymore. _Nothing_."

He stood up, his eyes filled with unshed tears also, and wrapped me tightly in his arms.

"There's nothing more we can do," I mumbled into his chest. "Just say you won't leave me. Let the others fight. Don't kill yourself."

"We'll be okay, Lils. As long as we're together, we'll be okay."

I can't help thinking it's not that simple. Voldemort wants us dead. That's the truth, and no, maybe it wasn't part of the plan. But Dumbledore's right – we've done enough. James and I are already on Voldemort's top ten most wanted, and this isn't going to improve matters. I don't know what we're going to do, to be honest. I don't know how long we can stay here, waiting to be found. We're just going to have to try and keep living as normally as possible. Keep loving. As naïve as it may be, I really think love will prevail.

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Thanks, keep reading! 


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Hello there. This is a rather quick chapter, but I've already written the next, and am insanely in love with it, as conceited as that may be. Hope you enjoy, and check back soon for updates! And now for the fluffalicious plot-lacking goodness:

Disclaimer: Any similarities to JKRowling's masterpiece is purley coincedental...ish...alright, it's all hers.

For Tom. Because the chances of you reading this story and actually figuring out who I really am are so infinitessiamlly tiny, that it won't hurt to tell you that I love you and miss you, and I'm so sorry, and that you really do deserve someone better than me. You deserve the stars and beyond.

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I hate fighting with James. I just hate it. I know neither of us really mean it, but that doesn't make it hurt less. We're both going stir crazy, cooped up in the house like this, and, as James points out so sweetly, I'm overflowing with hormones. I mean, honestly. Sometimes I forgot how much I disliked James as a boy, and then he so kindly reminds me. 

I shouldn't be writing when I'm like this. It's not the way I want to remember our story, but it's the truth and I'm going to write about it. Maybe I've given the impression so far that our love is perfect. That it's beyond perfect. And he's the only thing that keeps me breathing. And, okay, it can be like that, but right now, in this moment, I wouldn't mind if the arrogant bugger went out and played in a bit of traffic.

I still remember the first argument I had with James. Well, our first fight as a couple, I mean. Our _first_ argument occurred within a nanosecond of meeting the conceited eleven year old, but that's not the one I'm talking about.

I was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, one snowy Sunday evening, helping a first year with her Transfiguration homework. It was a menial task, but one I felt was my duty, being Head Girl. I was thumbing through my _Transfiguration for Beginners_, when James ambled over, tousling his jet black hair as he came. Annoyance fizzed gently under my skin, coupled with a mad urge to lay him over the table and shag him right then and there. Only the day before, I had told him not to distract me while I was working. Clearly, not a lot had sunk in.

"Hey, love," he murmured, kissing the side of my neck softly.

I turned my head and kissed his cheek, before reminding him of his promise. "Seriously, James. I'll be done soon."

"Oh, she'll be fine. Won't you?" he addressed his question to the small first year who hadn't dared look up when he sauntered over, and now trembled visibly. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but not a sound came out. I could understand her stunned reaction: he was a Quidditch god, Head Boy, and one of the best looking boys in the school. And although my looks were merely adequate, I was still Head Girl. Any first year would find it difficult to form a coherent thought.

I decided to save her. "Give me a second, Kate," I said, rising from the hard chair, and grabbing James' arm as I led him away from the table.

"Is she alright, y'know, in the head?" he asked, still peering over his shoulder at the gaping first year.

"She's fine," I said shortly.

He turned his attention back to me, eyeing my crossed arms and impatiently tapping foot. "Are _you_ alright?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me why you so rudely interrupted us."

Looking slightly taken aback, James frowned. "I didn't _rudely_ interrupt." He sounded like a petulant child. "Seriously, what's wrong? You're being all…itchy. Are you tired?"

"Yes, I'm tired," I wailed, attracting the attention of the nearest Gryffindors, who turned to watch excitedly. I ignored them. "You expect me to spend every waking second with you, James, and I don't mind, honestly, but I've got other friends, and I need to do my work, and Head Girl duties, and about a thousand other things, but I can't because you're _always there_." I swallowed. The common room had gone oddly quiet. All eyes were on my angry red face, and James' tight pale one.

"Have you ever considered that maybe I enjoy spending time with you?" he asked quietly, every trace of the child vanished from his features. "That maybe I try to spend _so_ much time with you, because even when we're together, you're never _really_ there?"

"Excuse me?" I hissed, my eyes flashing with anger.

"Sometimes I feel I'm just another chore on your list, Lily," he said, then put on a high-pitched voice and mocked, "'Three to four o'clock: homework. Four to five o'clock: James. Five to six o'clock: dinner.' I don't want to just be another part of your schedule!"

"How dare you?" I yelled, "You know that's not how I feel at all."

"Isn't it?" he asked darkly. "Because sometimes I think I'm the only one who really does feel anything in this relationship. You let me kiss you, but if I ever try anything else, you're always pushing me away, and saying you have to work or see a teacher."

"James!" I shouted, my face burning crimson, only too aware of the many eyes resting on the both of us and the faint whispering echoing around the room.

"Well, it's true," he retorted, clearly unabashed.

I glared at him, then stormed towards the portrait hole, and out into the chilly corridor. James followed not far behind, his black robes billowing out behind him and a dark look in his usually laughing eyes.

"How dare you say those things?" I demanded.

"I could ask the same of you," he retorted, meeting my glare with an equally fierce one.

"Well I guess this is over then."

"Yeah, I guess it – wait, what?" Confusion crossed his face as he frowned at me. "What are you talking about?"

"You and me," I replied quietly. A tremble in my voice gave away some of the pain coursing through me. Immediately James' face softened, and he even smiled sadly. Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a finger across my face, then, as he saw I wasn't about to yell again, stepped forward and wrapped me tightly in his arms, pressing his lips to my head.

"Of course we're not over," he murmured. "Listen, Lily. I don't think you understand quite how much I love you."

"Yes I do," I argued, but he persisted.

"What I mean is, it hurts when I'm not with you. And I'm sorry if I irritate you, but you have to let me kiss you sometimes, otherwise I think I'll explode. I'll stop interrupting when you're tutoring, but at least let me sit with you when you're doing homework. You're the best witch in our year, Lily, a few distractions wouldn't hurt."

I scowled into his chest. "Fine," I mumbled. "And…I'll let you do more than just kiss me."

He drew away and levelled his eyes with mine. "I'm not asking for that. I shouldn't have even said it. Just…tell me how far you're willing to go, and don't stop things between us for any other reason than you're not comfortable."

I looked down at my feet. He was bang on the mark, with that one. I was always afraid people were watching, or he was going to run off and tell his friends about our love life.

"Okay," I agreed, then leaned up and kissed him. He was careful to keep his hands firmly on my waist.

Hmph. Well. Now I'm feeling all gooey about James again, but I can see him still kicking things out in the back garden, under the sweltering June sun. I don't know what it is between us. I mean, we fit together so well. As corny as it sounds, I think we _were_ actually made for each other. He's my other half, and I just feel _right_ when I'm with him. Like, when we fight, we _always _make up. We never just let it fizzle out, so that we're left just that little bit less in love with each other. We keep yelling until it's sorted out, and more often than not finish it in the bedroom.

I'm not saying that I like fighting with James, but don't they say that anger is the strongest form of passion? Or is that hate? Well, it keeps our marriage intense and searing. I wouldn't be without him.

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Help the review whore feed her addiction. Much love. 


	6. Chapter 6

A big thank you to all my lovely reviewers! I really like this chap, and hope you do to!

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Ok, Lily, now before you go getting all irritated that I'm writing in your beloved book, I assure you that I did wash my hands before holding it, and I will try as hard as possible to ensure my handwriting is decipherable. Also, I think you should know that as this is _our_ story, I think it is my right, if not my obligation, to scrawl a few lines in here. I can just imagine you flinching as you read over the word 'scrawl'. See how neat I'm being?

Now, I'm not sure who the intended audience is supposed to be here, but I think it's important that I start off by emphasizing that Lily Potter, my Lily, is the most beautiful woman I've ever met. I'm sure she has mentioned already her merely adequate appearance, but I assure you, this is all a lie. I still remember the first time I saw Lily, only a child back then, with fiery red hair and an equally fiery disposition. It was love at first sight. Well, for me anyway. I mean, of course she was _attracted_ to my undeniably good looks, but I must admit, my personality was slightly less than charming.

It's difficult to describe Lily. It's not just the fact that her eyes shine brighter than the twinkliest star in the sky, nor that her smile can warm the heart of Glacius, the god of ice. It's something more…something indescribable. It's Lily. It's her heart and her beautiful ability to see the good in everyone, and her forgiveness, and generosity, and her laugh which can bring any man to his knees.

So now we have that out of the way, let's proceed with the story.

I wasn't sure exactly what to write in here…we have so many amazing moments it's difficult to choose just one. I thought about telling the time when we first really told each other 'I love you' but that's something Lils would want to write about, I'm sure, so instead I will, most predictably and irritatingly out of order, tell of our first shag.

(I can see your eyes rolling Lily, and I promise you, they _will_ get stuck one day. Now swallow your indignity at me writing such a crass word in here – I saw you write it last chapter, so I'm just following by example.)

Let's see…It was a rainy March afternoon, and I had an exceptionally full bladder. That I remember quite distinctly as it was my reason for ambling along the Seventh floor corridor that dreary day. Although bathrooms were not few and far between at Hogwarts, I preferred a bit of luxury when it came to relieving myself. The Prefect's bathroom was remarkably pleasant, but it was on the other side of the castle, and besides, it didn't have a cushioned toilet seat, or a rack of intellectual reading commissioned to suit my whim, unlike the Room of Requirement. So I was just leaving the fast disappearing doorway, my hair perfectly ruffled, glasses straightened, when I saw the most beautiful girl in the school walking towards me, her thick red hair dancing behind her.

Her eyes gleamed in surprise when she saw me, then they slid to the portrait of the dancing trolls and, putting two and two together, she grinned wickedly. "You are so abnormal," she said, laughing as she threw her arms around my neck. My lips found hers, and the kiss deepened until her fingers were woven deep into my hair, my hands pressing into the small of her back. I pressed her up against the wall, except the wall was gone, and instead we stumbled through a doorway, right back into the Room of Requirements. Except it was different now. The elaborate bathroom had vanished, to instead be replaced with what seemed to be an empty classroom. Desks were pushed to one side, and a chalkboard hung dusty on the far wall.

"Not that I'm complaining," I began, breaking the kiss momentarily, "but don't you have class?"

"Free period," Lily murmured, taking a step back, and dabbing delicately at the corners of her mouth, then smiling. "I know for a fact you're supposed to be in Care of Magical Creatures, though."

I shrugged, unfazed. "I'm skiving."

"Clearly. Another excellent example set by Head Boy Potter." Lily wandered around the room, gathering her long red hair and tying it neatly into a thick ponytail, before dropping her bag, and hopping onto the teacher's desk, swinging her legs enticingly. "So why did you require an empty classroom? Private lessons?"

I dropped my bag also, and loosened my tie, before wandering over to where she was sat. With as much cool as I could muster, I placed a hand either side of her on the desk, and leaned in for another kiss. She was surprisingly talented at kissing, given that she'd had no experience (that I knew of) before me. She always tasted good too. Like she'd just eaten strawberries or something. I never tired of it.

Only when my back began to ache, did I straighten up. And then something caught my eye. The desks had disappeared, and instead, a large four poster bed stood against the far wall. I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise you were so keen."

She blushed furiously. "That wasn't me!" she retorted.

"Well, it certainly wasn't me," I replied coolly, grinning at the mingled look of outrage and embarrassment on her face. "I was planning to do it right here on the desk."

She tutted disdainfully, but her face was now as red as her hair, and I chuckled to myself, before sweeping her up and carrying her over to the bed.

"James," she muttered, sitting on its edge, and tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "I don't think it's such a good idea. We're in school, and it's the middle of the day."

I must admit, behind my cool exterior, my heart did drop a few inches. Of course, we wouldn't do anything she wasn't comfortable with, but I _am_ a guy, and therefore it was perfectly acceptable to be a little disappointed. And perhaps a good time to try out my impressive skills of persuasion.

I started kissing her again, down her neck to the collar of her perfectly fastened blouse.

"James," she moaned, half laughing as she tried to push me away. "I'm serious!"

I backed off pretty quickly at that. "Well, you _look_ like Lily." Har dee har.

"Seriously?" she raised an eyebrow. "Sirius jokes? _Now_?"

Okay, maybe she had a point. "Lily, why don't you want to do this?" I asked, all joking aside. "Because you're not comfortable with it, or because you think others would disapprove?"

"We're in _school_, James," she protested, but dug her fingers into my hair anyway when I returned to my previous ministrations.

"No one will find us. No one will know."

Levelling my head with hers, I gazed into her vivid eyes, seeing the confusion, fear and desire behind them. With a slight roll of the eyes, she finally said, "Okay, fine."

I did a double take. "Wait, are you serious?"

"No, but I can go and get him if you'd like."

"I thought we'd agreed no Sirius jokes," I reprimanded, but I was smiling anyway; we were actually going to do this.

"Couldn't help myself," she laughed. Next thing I knew, she was shrugging off her robes and pulling off her regulation grey sweater. Her shirt was tucked in. Typical Lily. Biting her lip, she looked me up and down then grinned.

"Ready to have all your dreams come true?"

"Arrogant prick," she mumbled, barely audible, as our lips met yet again. We both carefully undressed each other until we were left kneeling in the centre of the large four poster, clad only in our underwear. Goose bumps patterned Lily's pale skin, and she shivered as she looked at me, though whether that was from the cold or nerves, I didn't know. Now, I'd been pretty okay until now. A slow drumming of excitement beat through me and every cell in my body had risen in temperature, but it wasn't until she reached behind her for the clasp of her bra, did I actually get butterflies in my stomach.

My relationship with Lily, up to this point, had been pretty non-physical. And don't get me wrong, that wasn't an awful thing. It wasn't like any other relationship I'd had before – we didn't have to be wrapped around each other for me to feel complete. Just _being_ with her was enough. So, until that day, the most I'd seen of Lily was neck up, and the occasional arm and leg when the weather had been warm enough to warrant jumpers and tights unnecessary.

So seeing her in front of me, her bra falling onto the bed beside us, definitely awoke something inside of me. I don't even know how to describe it exactly. Sure, excitement was definitely there, but it was more than that. Something beyond physical desires. Something that made me want to just hold her and never let go.

She took my hands in hers, then, and guided me towards her until my fingers were touching her warm soft skin, and Merlin, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Then she moved a little closer, and held onto me tightly so our knees, thighs, chests were pressed together. Forget the previous comment – now _this_ was heaven. "James," she murmured nervously, her lips brushing my ear.

"Mm?"

"Have you ever, y'know," she drew back and looked up into my face, "done this before?"

I couldn't meet her eyes. Now, I'm not sure how often a teenage guy can honestly say he wished he'd never had sex. But at that moment, I wanted nothing else than for that to be true. I licked my lips tentatively, preparing myself for an answer, but it seemed she had derived one from my silence.

"Oh." She drew away from me and shuffled back along the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. "Oh."

"Lils," I began while crawling over to her, and placing a hand on her arm.

"How many girls?" she interrupted, her face buried into her arms so I couldn't meet her eyes.

"Two," I replied honestly.

"Who were they?"

"It doesn't matter. Lily look at me."

She did as I asked, and my heart broke to see she had tears in her eyes. I scooped her up into my lap and held on to her tightly.

"Listen, Lily. You know I've had relationships with other girls, but they've been wildly different to ours. Nothing I felt for them even came close to what we have. With my other girlfriends, we _had_ to engage in physical activities to make up for not being able to connect in any other way."

She nodded ruefully, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It's just…what if I'm not very good? What if those other girls are better than me, and I'm just a disappointment?"

I couldn't believe she was even thinking this. She didn't seem to realise that the physical act wasn't what mattered to me. All I wanted was to _be _with her, and I told her this. "And besides, the likelihood of you not being absolutely incredible is so infinitesimally small, that it's not even worth discussing." I smiled down at her and kissed her nose. "Now, if you don't want to do this, then we won't, okay? I promised you we wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable with."

"I want to do it," she said quietly. "I just wanted us to experience it for the first time together." I knew this was important to her, and I would have given anything to go back in time and stop those previous experiences, but there was nothing I could do.

And in all honesty, my first time had been so god-awfully bad, that it was probably best that I had a bit more experience under my belt now. Hopefully this time there would be no hysterical crying during, or panicked screaming at the puddle of blood afterwards. This time, it would be perfect.

And so we did it.

Hmm. Perhaps not the best description of one of my favourite memories. It was awkward in a way, I suppose, but not badly so. Being so naked and vulnerable together for the first time warranted a little awkwardness, but that made it even more exciting. She was a little embarrassed at being so totally exposed, and although I tried my best to keep the pain at a minimum, I knew it hurt.

But it was deliciously sweet at the same time. And afterwards she let out a little giggle and kissed me all over, all embarrassment forgotten as she reached out and touched every inch of me. For the rest of the evening, we just lay together, stroking each other lazily and occasionally planting soft kisses on warm skin, dinner all but forgotten. And then we made love again, and she cried out my name as she tightened around me and I memorised that look on her face before I lost all control and spiralled into the deep abyss with her.

We slept there, and didn't wake until five minutes before class the next morning and I had the mickey taken out of me by Sirius all through Transfiguration, but it was more than worth it. I don't think I heard a single word all that day, my mind filled with nothing but Lily.

So there you go. I was afraid I was going to go all pornographic for a moment then, but I think I managed to restrain myself fairly well. At least with _me_ writing this little vignette there was no mention of throbbing manhoods or blossoming flowers.

And don't scowl at me Lily, I thought that was a very tasteful description of our first shag. At least I didn't write about that time in the broom closet - then you'd really have something to blush about.

Look out for the next chapter by James Potter: a three page description of the magnificent Lily Potter's breasts.

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Thanks! Please leave a review. Oh, and does anyone know any good Twilight fics? xx 


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